Spy Checks and Campfires
by Authenti
Summary: Christmas is rapidly approaching, and no one can figure out for the life of them why it's snowing in the desert. More importantly, though, is a teammate who's been lying for years. And, unexpectedly, it isn't the Spy. Rated for some French cursing
1. Competence

Sniper gave a strangled cry as something scraped at his shoulder, drawing blood. He whipped around, sunglasses glinting, and waved his kukri through empty space.

"Hey! We got a damn spook up 'ere, mates!"

"Right behind you." Patronising, but effective. The RED Spy grinned as his arm swung down…

…And burst into flames. Choking, he backed off, stumbling backwards off the edge of the snipers' nest and losing his balance. He vanished off the edge and Sniper winced at the sickening 'thud' that came a few seconds later.

"…Thanks, mate."

"Mmf mrrf-mhh."

Judging by the amount of syllables, Sniper assumed that meant 'you're welcome' and tipped his hat politely. He hissed as he began to feel the pain from the gash on his back, but doggedly hoisted his rifle onto his bleeding shoulder with a grunt and once again took aim.

The Pyro disappeared again immediately, as he'd expected him to, leaving him once again alone on the upper deck of the BLU base. It was a depressing thought, but he'd lived with it for years.

More footsteps about half a minute later, and some rushed complaints in a German accent.

"Vat you vant me for? Go check for your spies, dummkopf! Stop pestering…" The BLU Pyro had uncharacteristically abandoned his flamethrower on his back for a moment to shove their Medic upstairs. "…Oh."

"Did 'ee bring you 'ere?" Sniper asked, confused. The Medic nodded and focused his Medigun on his teammate, the wound in his shoulder closing up. "Well, I appreciate it…" Job done, the Pyro had apparently disappeared again. They heard muffled laughter from downstairs – presumably another flammable RED had run out of luck.

"Ze Pyro is a credit to ze BLU team, in a strange sort of vay."

"Yeah… he's a right creepy wankah, but I guess 'ee helps." Sniper rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then went back to filling a RED Heavy's head with lead. The Medic made a noncommittal sort of noise and headed back downstairs.

"Vatch out for Spies, Westyn. If I haff to fix vun more knife wound to ze back, I vill finish ze damn job myself."

"I'll keep that in mind," he mumbled to himself, getting in another skilful shot at an enemy Medic and imagining theirs in the same place.

---

The Spy strode into the Intel room, glancing around carefully. No one there, but he could hear shuffling from behind him and around the corner. He'd have to be quick. Grabbing the Intel and hearing the speakers crackle into life, he took the other exit out of the place, cursing as his cloaking device failed. This always happened when he was holding Intel, and he'd always suspected it was deliberate. The Announcer was a mysterious woman; no doubt this was her doing.

The barrel of a shotgun nudged him in the back and he stopped in his tracks. "Merde."

"…Mrrf. Mll khhvr yrr." The Pyro stepped back and waved his shotgun at the corridor. Spy turned back. His flame-retardant suit was, thankfully, blue.

"Cover me."

The Pyro waved his free arm irritably and made a muffled noise that sounded something like "That's what I just said!" The Spy ignored him and headed forwards. A Soldier stamped out from behind a wall of computers and he heard the ominous sound of a rocket launcher being loaded. The Spy attempted to hoist the briefcase over his shoulder and pull out the Ambassador, but the thing was uncomfortably heavy and the sudden weight shift made him stagger backwards. He felt gloves on his shoulders, steadying him.

"Watch ze suit," he managed to say, before regaining his balance again and ducking back down the hallway. Pyro, however, had other plans. With catlike reflexes completely uncharacteristic of the other BLUs, the Spy's fire-favouring team-mate dodged around him and leapt into the air. The rocket that hit the wall behind him a moment later propelled him forwards, and the Spy heard a burst of flame and a scream as someone presumably got burned.

"Rll clrrf! C'mrrn!"

The Spy made a mental note to be slightly less sharp to the Pyro in future. That one was more competent than he'd been willing to admit.


	2. Discovery

"Mrrn mrr t'h crr-rr rrt?" The Pyro tapped the briefcase to convey his meaning, and the Spy sighed deeply.

"I will be fine."

"Nrrt 'zrrctly dgn'f'd." Not exactly dignified? The Spy glanced down at himself. Actually, now that he came to think of it, he did look a little undignified. The weight of the case was just slightly too much, and it was completely unbalancing him. He was either leant over to the side, or struggling not to hit himself in the knee with the stupid case. Seeing him having second thoughts about walking into the BLU base like this, the Pyro took his chance and grabbed the case off him, grunting, and hefted it into both arms. He staggered backwards a few paces, then regained composure and followed the Spy's footsteps almost exactly.

"Alright, zen," he sighed. "Not like you're giving me a choice."

"Nr."

They walked in silence for a while, Pyro seeming fine with the weight of the case… then again, he couldn't read any facial expressions.

Eventually, the Spy broke the silence.

"Do not think me uncivilised for allowing a woman to carry ze briefcase."

Pyro froze. Almost a minute passed. Luckily they were already in one of the outer corridors of the BLU base, or they'd probably have been attacked.

"…S'hh yh knrr, thnn."

"Oui. I have known since last week. No Pyro burns _quite _zat many things in one day without good reason, but you did it at ze same time last month, too." This earned him a hefty thwack around the head with the blunt end of her axe, and he chuckled briefly.

"Rrt 'f rrdrr." They continued deeper into the base, and finally she deposited the enemy's intelligence unceremoniously onto the desk. The Spy readied his cloaking device and she followed him to the exit.

"I will go for zeir sentries. Do not blow my cover."

He tapped a button on his wristwatch and vanished from sight, but something tugged slightly on his sleeve.

"I won't, if you won't."

"I will tell no one of my own accord, ma cherie. Zey will find out on zeir own eventually, though. You know zis."

"Yes," she said, pulling her mask back down over her mouth and securing it again. "Bht… Thnk yrr."

---

"Vhat do you vant? Sniper again?"

"Nrr, srr. J'st mrr," Pyro coughed gruffly.

"Vell, at least you are polite." The Medic switched on his Medigun and pointed it at the Pyro, muttering something about their Heavy Weapons Guy in irked-sounding German. "Hold still, dummkopf."

"Rr h'f trr br rrt thrr _nrr_!"

"I don't care vhen you need to be out zere. Ze gun vill not vork any faster vith you moving around."

Pyro decided she'd had enough of trying to hurry him, and slumped backwards onto a supply crate. The feeling of being healed was peculiar; it was almost like sitting in an uncomfortable position for a while, then shifting and suddenly realising it was painful. As the bullet wounds in her arm spat out lead and closed up, however, she gave a sigh of relief. "Thnnks, drc."

The Medic waved an arm noncommittally and turned away, responding to a cry for help from their Soldier, who had no doubt managed to get himself shot at during a rocket jump again. Unseen behind her mask, Pyro's eyes narrowed. She had a bad gut feeling about their Scout, who she'd seen heading towards the Sniper's nest a few minutes ago. He'd been moving too fast to be a Spy, so that was out of the question, but he'd yelled something about 'jumping the roof' before charging upstairs.

Scout's plan was normally to run straight across the bridge, dodging enemy fire, in order to make his way upstairs and into the enemy Intelligence room. The problem was, Scout had recently adopted a different method: leaping from their sniper deck to the bridge roof, then across to the RED sniper deck.

Scout had never messed up the jumps before, but the problem was how open and exposed the bridge roof was.

Pyro grunted and followed their Medic to the source of the Soldier's voice, which sounded like it was coming from the yard area. No sense thinking about Scout now. Scout was a real nuisance at times, but it was hard to think about him getting hurt. He could dodge like a pro, couldn't he?

A sole rifle shot echoed out over the battlefield, cutting through the general gunfire like a knife. Almost at the same time, a rather inelegant scream and the sound of someone hitting the deck.

Pyro cursed loudly and back-pedalled immediately. Scout had forgotten to account for the REDs' new Sniper, apparently. Either that, or he'd just decided to stop and wave down the rifle scope. Another shot cleared her head, but this one sounded much closer. No doubt their own Sniper giving cover fire; that at least meant Scout was alive.

"Mmpf mrrh!?" she screamed up the stairs. No answer. She once again cursed her stupid mask for ruining all her vocal chords' hard work, and vaulted over the railings to end up knee-deep in water. A few moments later and Pyro was out in the open air again, plunging forwards into the deeper water.

At least the dumb kid had had the sense to slide off the roof to avoid getting shot again. Pyro found him clinging with one arm to one of the bridge supports, clutching his thigh with the other and belting out swear words like there was no tomorrow.

"Shrt rrp," she growled at him. Scout always reacted to bullet wounds as if they were the ones to end his life, even with something this trivial.

"Oh god, oh god, it hurts, man, it _hurts _like _hell!_ Pyro, man, you gotta do something… G-get the Medic or somethin', man!"

_Medic wouldn't jump into this filth to save his _own _life, _she mentally rebuked him. Scout forced himself to let go of the wooden support beam, clutching wildly at her shoulders. The sudden weight almost dragged her under.

"Cnn't yrr sw'm?"

"N-no, does it matter!? Get me outta here, man!" More rushed cursing. "…Augh… It hurts…" Pyro ignored his continued swearing and somehow managed to manoeuvre them both back to the pipe. Some struggling ensued, but eventually Scout and Pyro were both standing in the pipe, his arms flung haphazardly around her neck for balance, and limped along beside her awkwardly. Although, she noted with disdain, the strings of expletives still didn't stop.

"Y'rr nrt rnn'n r'g'n f'r rr whrrl."

"W-what?"

"Rr srrd, y'rr-"

Scout lost his balance and crumpled against the curved concrete wall. "Jesus, man! Watch it!" Pyro decided this was definitely not her fault, and she'd had just about enough of dragging the injured war-hero along with her. She stepped away and folded her arms pointedly. "Wh…? Oh. Sorry. Didn't even realise I said th- JESUS, it hurts! What were… what were you saying?"

Pyro gave an enraged sort of scream at him. He blinked dumbly.

Enough.

She pulled off her mask.

"I _said, _you're not running again for a while!" she shouted. Scout splashed into the water as he gave up trying to support himself, eyes wide and staring at her like she was some kind of mutant. A Tenta-Spy, perhaps? They _were _in the sewers.

"Y… You… You…"

"Are female. Am female? I'm lost in my own grammar. _I am a girl._ Shut up and let's get you to the halfway point before I lose my patience entirely." When he didn't respond (other than a sustained whine, which Pyro didn't care to class as a reasonable answer), she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him behind her for about a metre. He struggled and eventually got himself upright, and they reached a small room full of pipes and machinery.

"I can't believe this, man. Shot in the leg, stuck in a pipe, and Pyro's a girl."

"Ye-es. I suppose you never thought these things would happen?"

"Awww, _crap_… Pyro's British…"

"Problem?"

Scout gave her a reproachful look. "Well, _yeah. _Now you're almost as fancy-pants as that damn Frenchie." He folded his arms and slid down the wall slowly, a pool of water forming beneath him.

Pyro snorted and reached for the medi-kit on the floor nearby. She wasn't sure who'd put it here, but there was always one at the start of a battle. Pyro eyed the locked door on the opposite wall with a hostile expression. The work of the Administrator's underlings, no doubt.


End file.
